Dreamgirls: Light on Substance, Big on Style

Out of the entire London program group, I was probably the person most expected to enjoy Dreamgirls. The movie was one I grew up with; I have incredibly fond memories of my sister and I sitting in the car, watching that movie repeatedly. In my opinion, Dreamgirls has some of the best music musical theatre has to offer. As such, my positive feelings towards the London premiere of Dreamgirls at the Savoy Theatre should not come as a surprise. However, my liking of the show could not hide some of the major problems within the script; problems that prevent Dreamgirls from being the cultural phenomenon it so deserves to be.

Dreamgirls suffers from a severe character development problem. If the musical was not trying to tell a complex story, the lack of character would not be a problem (Mamma Mia is a great example of a light on character, big on flash show that works). However, Dreamgirls explores themes of racial and sexual politics in the sixties, marital abuse, body politics, and the cost of being famous in general. The political ambition of the show is admirable, especially considering its age, but as with any story, the only way to make those themes matter involves having interesting, fleshed-out characters with understandable motivations. The characters in Dreamgirls only seem to exist as tropes. For example, there is Deena, the wide-eyed innocent girl who “goes bad” to become famous. Then there is Lorell, the cynical backup singer who falls in love with a married pop star. The biggest victim of the singular trope characterization is Curtis, the sleazy used car salesman who becomes the manager of the Dreamgirls, and whose arc is clear from his first introduction. The only character who seems to escape this tropification is Effie, and even she falls into the American stereotype of the sassy, curvy black woman (though she has by far the best songs; “Not Living Without You” is well worth the price of admission). As such, the brief just-here-to-justify-the-next-song dialogue mixed with ambitious thematic intentions sometimes leaves the audience with the impression that the musical does not understand the complexity of its own subject matter.

For example, the duet “Listen,” sung beautifully by Liisi DeFontaine and Amber Riley (Deena and Effie, respectively), falls into this trap. At this point in the plot, the two characters, formerly best friends, have not spoken in years because Deena previously betrayed Effie for the sake of her music career. The two finally meet again when Effie goes to sue the Dreamgirls’ manager for stealing a song written for her. In such a situation, filled with resentment and misunderstood feelings and secrets, one would expect strong dramatic emphasis, with dialogue and songs meant to emphasize each characters’ point of view and give reason for an emotional reunification between the two characters. Instead, Effie and Deena barely have a conversation, burst into a duet, and then somehow everything is resolved. Let me be clear; I am not saying that the song itself trivializes the themes. Songs in musicals often explore characters’ motivations and emotions within the narrative better than dialogue can. However, those songs should enhance the emotions of the characters, instead of speeding along their emotional journey for the sake of the plot, as happens in Dreamgirls.

Overall, if you don’t mind having a show a bit overly light on narrative, Dreamgirls is worth your time. The cast is decent, the music is catchy and fun, and no expense is spared when it comes to production design and costume. It is just unfortunate that this show, a show that has the potential to be one of the greats, has to simply be a fun night out because of its oversimplified structure.

~Laudie Porter, ’18

Author: porterl2

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